The Second Quarter Quell
by Y.J. Nen
Summary: Haymitch Abernathy was once a tribute in one of the cruelest Hunger Games Panem had ever seen. This is the story of his time in the Quarter Quell, from reaping to Victory Tour, and of how the handsome boy from the Seam lost everything.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**This fic, told from Haymitch's p.o.v., runs roughly the same time span as The Hunger Games did; it starts on the day of the reaping and follows the entire Games, just as The Hunger Games did for Katniss. Just as a precaution, Haymitch's story is far from a happy one- that much is clear just from the hints we get from the books themselves. I did my research as best I could in regards to what is and is not known about Haymitch's Quarter Quell and life before the games, but if you find an inaccuracy anywhere, please let me know so I can address it! Also, a note on Olivia: it is known that Haymitch had a girlfriend. Whether that's an unknown girl or Maysilee is left to interpretation. I hope to address both possibilities over the course of this fic, however. n_n

That's said... Let the games begin.

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_Chapter 1_

I awoke to the sounds of my younger brother coughing violently. Sleeping had been more annoyance than rest, anyway, as my mind refused to stop churning through impossible 'what-ifs', so the excuse to get out of bed and check on him was a welcome one.

Hauling myself upright in bed, I dangled my legs over the edge of the thin mattress to look at my mother, who was holding a cup of murky water to my brother's mouth. She was clearly worried, frowning as the coughs racked his body as he tried to sip the water. He was so small, even for a boy of only eleven.

That was one bright side on such a morbid day, I thought as the realization hit me. He was still only eleven. I wouldn't have to worry about hearing his name called out today.

"Haymitch?" My mother's soft voice brought my attention back to the two of them. "Why are you awake? You should be resting."

I felt guilty, meeting her tired eyes. "Because you're an authority on sleep-deprived, huh? Compared to you, I'm fresh as a daisy," I scowled at her, masking my guilt with blunt honesty. "How's Hendrick doing?"

"Not well." If my jab at her hurt her, she didn't show it. All her concern was focused on my brother. "He needs medicine…"

The rest of her sentence went unsaid, but I knew what she was thinking. How could we afford medicine? I had no father, not that I knew of, anyway, and she barely made enough to feed us with her work as a seamstress, even with the tesserae I took out for the three of us. Medicine was an expensive luxury.

Which, we both knew, Hendrick would die without.

Hopping out of bed, I stumbled around our small hut, groping in the barely-dawn light to find a shirt and my shoes.

"What are you doing?" My mother asked softly. Hendrick had stopped coughing for the moment, and had his feverish eyes trained on me, a hint of curiosity battling back the exhaustion clear in them.

"Oh, I thought I'd go for a stroll, admire the morning." I snapped, rapidly buttoning up my shirt. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going to go and talk to Adoxa. Maybe I can work something out with her."

"The apothecarist's daughter?"

"No, the president's." I replied, rolling my eyes as I shoved on my boots.

I heard my mother sigh as I headed for the door. Hesitating, I turned around to look at her and my brother, and my expression softened. "Sorry. I'm tense. I shouldn't be taking it out on you."

She shook her head, smiling sadly. "No, I understand. It's… a tense day for us all." Her arm around my brother tightened slightly.

"Mom?" Hendrick said, his voice hoarse from coughing. "What's wrong?" Even at his age, he had begun to know our mother's subtle signs of distress.

I quickly crossed back over to the two of them and ruffled Hendrick's hair. "Nothing, squirt. She's just frustrated that I haven't left yet to get you something to stop that cough. You know, thinking I'm lazy and all that."

"I don't think you're lazy, 'Aymitch." Hendrick said solemnly, nodding with the certainty of a little kid who had yet to experience his first reaping.

That drew a small smile from both me and my mother. I turned to leave once more, but at the last minute I gave my mother a quick kiss on the head. "I'll be back before one. I promise." I muttered quietly.

Then I made straight for the door, refusing to look back to see her expression. The last thing I heard was Hendrick calling, "Bye, 'Aymitch!" before the coughs took him again.

I hadn't gotten very far from my dingy little house in the Seam before I heard rapid footsteps behind me. Turning, my neutral expression changed to a rare grin.

"Trying to sneak up on me? You wouldn't last a day in the Arena, you stomp like a horse."

The girl I called out froze, mid-step, and scowled. Her pale brown hair was pulled back in a sharp braid, and a dusting of freckles covered her face and shoulders. Her dress was practical, as were her shoes, both of which were slightly better quality than most people on the Seam had- her father worked in the mines, her mother made a little extra on the side as a washerwoman, and she herself helped to tend geese in order to pick up extra money, in addition to her taking out the tesserae for herself, her parents, and her two little siblings.

She was one of the few people I respected in this pathetic District.

Sticking her tongue out at me, she caught up to me in a few long strides. She was tall, coming up to my nose while still being a year younger than me. "Ha, you wish. If I get Reaped, I'll have to win, just so I can come back and prove you wrong. You'll have to watch, of course, and be stunned by my cunning feats of stealth. That would show you."

"Really, now? I think you'd trip at the Cornucopia and get knifed by a Career. First death, easily."

She laughed, even though what we bantered about could easily become reality in a matter of hours.

"Where are you off to this auspicious morning?" She asked as we resumed walking to the merchant area of the district. "I'm off to deliver some freshly laundered whatnots. Mainly dresses, nice clothes and the like. Mom and I figure they'll want this bright and early."

"Apothecary. Hendrick's cough is getting worse."

The cheerful look she normally wore fell from her face in a look of genuine concern. "Do you need me to lend you some money for it? I can do that, Haymitch. It wouldn't be an-"

"No." I cut her off quickly. I refused to take anything from her, she worked too hard for it. "Olivia, I have it covered, it'll be fine."

She knew me too well to believe me, but that same knowledge kept her from pressing the issue. Instead, she kicked me.

"Ow! What was that for, Liv?"

"For being simultaneously incredibly sweet and pathetically un-chivalrous. Don't you know it's standard form to offer to help someone to carry their burden?" She asked, gesturing to the large bag filled with clothing that she carried, the mischievous glint back in her eyes.

I rolled my own at her even as I took the bag. "It's unladylike to guilt people into helping you, if we're on the subject of old-fashioned stupidity."

She grinned. "Who said I was a lady?"

We walked together as far as the start of the merchant district, bantering back and forth in our usual manner. At the start of the merchant's district, Olivia took back the bag of laundry with a sigh. "I suppose it's so long for now, hm? I've deliveries to make."

I nodded, making a pointed effort to hide my frown. I would never admit it, but I didn't want to part ways just yet. Instead, I wanted to spend as much time with her today as possible; it was all too easy for one of our names to be drawn at the reaping, and if that happened, well, it would be just as good as a permanent good-bye.

She smiled, bouncing up onto the balls of her feet to kiss me on the cheek. "Don't look so sour. I'll see you at the reaping. I've got the most ridiculous ribbon for my hair and everything."

"I always knew you were meant to be in the Capitol, you're just so fashionable." I replied, managing to quip back at her in spite of my sense of dread at seeing her leave.

With another laugh, she waved goodbye, breaking off for the mayor's building to begin her deliveries. I watched her leave a moment longer before purposefully making my way to the apothecary.

When I reached it, there were only two girls in the shop. One stood behind the counter, chatting idly with the other who was perched on it. Both looked up when I walked in and ceased talking, which was fine by me; I had little patience for empty gossip, and figured they were probably discussing what they would wear to the reaping or something else vapid and pointless. I knew both girls; Adoxa, the girl behind the counter, and Maysilee, the girl perched on it, were both merchant's daughters, relatively wealthy girls who had never had to take out the tesserae. As annoying as the Games' infamous tagline was, the odds really were in their favor, and they knew it. Looking at me, someone from the Seam, they probably felt pity.

I resented it, to say the least.

Scowling, I said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to crash the party, but I've a brother trying to cough up his own vital organs, so if I could trouble you for something for it I'd appreciate it and then I'd be out of your carefully groomed hair."

"Don't be obnoxious, Haymitch." Maysilee frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't worry about it, May." Adoxa said quickly, putting a hand on her friend's arm. "Sorry, certainly I can help. What are the symptoms?"

"Coughing, fever, aches." I rattled off, focusing on Adoxa rather than Maysilee. Maysilee and I had never gotten along, and I didn't feel like getting into a time-consuming argument with her.

As I spoke, Adoxa nodded and turned around to rifle through her jars of medicinal herbs. She quickly selected a variety, then turned back to the two of us. "Looks like we don't have any more willow bark. I'll be right back, I need to go get some from the storeroom." Glancing between the two of us and noting our clearly displeased expressions, she sighed. "Please try not to kill each other before I get back?"

"I make no promises." Maysilee replied with a shrug.

"On that, we can agree." I added, refusing to let her have the last word.

Adoxa sighed once again before vanishing into the storeroom. An awkward silence descended over us. Maysilee idly twisted a strand of her blond hair between two fingers, and I occupied myself pointedly looking anywhere but her. Finally, the silence seemed to frustrate her more than talking to me would, and she abruptly stated, "We weren't talking about hair, or whatever you think it was."

"I'll alert the Capitol," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Actually, what we were talking about might interest you, if you could deign to listen to us airheads."

"Really? Somehow I doubt that. What you guys here in merchantland care about doesn't exactly coincide with those of us in the Seam all that readily."

Despite my harsh tone, Maysilee couldn't stop talking once she'd started. "Poisonous plants, actually. I think those are relevant to the Seam? I'm not saying you do, but, I do know some people sneak into the forest, and, well, knowing what you can and can't eat is typically useful, wouldn't you say?"

She had a point. I didn't sneak into the forest- it was too much of a risk in my opinion, and I made better money helping out around the coal mines than I could by poaching or foraging and selling what I didn't eat. I had always been a terrible shot and had no time to learn traps, and it was damned hard to kill prey with a knife. Still, I refused to let her know that. "Yeah, great, stay away from the slimy stuff, very enlightening."

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Maysilee asked, smirking at me. "It's not the slimy stuff you should look out for so much as the pretty stuff. The more colorful it is, the more deadly. Or at least that's the general rule."

"Uh-huh. If I see a butterfly, I'll be sure to run for cover."

Adoxa returned at that point, saving us from more petty jabs at each other. "Sorry about that. Here, Haymitch, this ought to help your brother." She held out a satchel of herbs. "Brew this as a tea and it'll help the fever, pain and coughing."

I took it gratefully. "Thanks. What do I owe you?"

The two girls exchanged quick glances. I knew a silent conversation when I saw one; Olivia and I spoke without words frequently. Finally, Maysilee shrugged unhappily as Adoxa turned back with a smile. "Don't worry about it."

"I don't take handouts, Adoxa." I scowled, even though all of my instincts were telling me to jump at the opportunity of free, quality medicine.

"It's not a handout, it's a payment." Adoxa said matter-of-factly.

Maysilee shifted uncomfortably on her counter. "Your mother did a lot of hemming for my family, and I'm of the firm opinion she undercharged us."

My eyebrows rose. "And here I thought you hated me."

"I do, but just because I do doesn't mean I can't like your mother and appreciate her work." Maysilee retorted. If we had been a few years younger I imagined she would have stuck her tongue out at me. "Besides," she added, "I could never just sit by and let a kid suffer, even if he does have the ill luck to be related to you."

"Just take it, Haymitch." Adoxa urged. "It's getting a bit late, after all, and none of us have time to waste today, do we?"

I scowled. I didn't want to admit it, but she was right. Snatching the satchel out of her hands, I mumbled my thanks and turned my back on them. I heard Maysilee softly go, "I just don't get what's wrong with him," as I left, and Adoxa reply, "You don't get Seam life at all, May, you're just too sheltered."

With a final scowl, I gratefully left the apothecary and hurried back home.

I heard Hendrick's coughing before I even opened the door, which made me grip the precious herbs all the tighter. Judging from the sun I had made it home at noon; plenty of time to get ready for the reaping. Only I had to get all dressed up for the show, and I put myself together quickly. I tossed the satchel to my mother, who was already heating up water over our small hearth. She looked at me with slight surprise when she saw its contents.

"Haymitch, how did you afford this?" She asked. "I was expecting just willow bark. This has lobelia and mullein in it as well, and those plants are far rarer."

I shrugged as I pulled my shirt off, even though my mind was racing. I had no idea what Adoxa had put in the satchel and no idea of its relative worth, but if my mother was impressed, that meant Maysilee and Adoxa had done me an even bigger favor than I had thought. I hated being indebted to people, but mentally I filed away the fact that I owed them both.

"Maysilee was there, said it was the final payment for the work you did for her family." I said disinterestedly, looking around for the tub of water we kept aside for cleaning. This water was relatively new; mother probably got it the other day in anticipation of the reaping. I splashed it over my hair before looking for our small mirror and the blade I used for shaving. As I did so, I noticed my mother had already laid out my best clothing. Hendrick was sleeping fitfully, coughing intermittently. I hoped Adoxa's medicinal tea would kick in for him to make it through the reaping without too much discomfort.

Once the tea is ready, mother coaxed it down Hendrick's throat and began to get him ready. It wasn't as vital that he look as dapper as could be as he would only be a small face in the crowd, but it was the one time each year she could get him looking like a proper gentleman, rather than a Seam street rat. Mother was born in the Seam just like us, but I always knew she wished she could one day live in a nice house like the merchants and Mayor did.

With a half an hour to spare we headed for the town square. Most of the district was already there by the time we arrived; the square was incredibly full. So many people in once space put me on edge; I couldn't stand large crowds, especially when gathered for such a morbid purpose.

I ruffled Hendrick's hair once more. The tea seemed to be having a good effect on him; he wasn't coughing as much, and his eyes didn't look as feverish as they had that morning. With a quick kiss on my mother's cheek, I went to take my place among the other eligible kids. I had to wade towards the front; I was in the oldest three age groups, being sixteen. With luck, I thought, I'd find the line where the fifteen year olds met the sixteen year olds and could stand near Olivia.

Somehow, I wound up standing next to Adoxa, Maysilee, and Maysilee's twin sister, Marjorie.

"I'll be," Maysilee quipped, eying my clean-shaven face and relatively nice clothing. "For a minute there I almost thought a stranger had wandered into the District."

"You clean up nicely," Marjorie remarked shyly. She had always been the meeker of the two, hiding behind her strong-willed sister.

I scowled at them both, which elicited a laugh from Maysilee.

After a short pause, Adoxa smiled tensely at me. Thankfully, she found something else to talk about than my appearance. "Did the tea help your brother?" She asked softly.

I nodded. "Yeah, a lot. Thanks." After a pause, I sighed, not wanting to say any more but knowing I ought to. "To both of you," I added, a bit louder, so that Maysilee could hear. To my outright surprise she gave me a quick, genuine smile. The nerves of the moment must have gotten to her, I figured, and made her forget that we weren't what you'd call friends.

A tap on my shoulder caused me to jump, to my embarrassment. I glanced over my shoulder to see Olivia grinning at me.

"It's pointless, but, good luck?" She offered, squeezing my hand.

"Thanks, empty gestures are great at times like this." I smirked back at her, returning the squeeze before dropping her hand and training my attention on the makeshift stage.

The clock chimed 2 o'clock.

Quickly, I scanned the faces of those on the stage. It was a meager pair, just the mayor and our escort, a woman by the name of Tilla Bloom, with green hair strewn with flowerbuds that made her look like some ridiculous living garden. The Capitol was obsessed with two main things, in my opinion: looking ridiculous and watching kids fight to the bloodiest death imaginable. I couldn't understand either one, and didn't try to; I'd go insane thinking about it.

Most other districts had a third chair or more on their stage, where past victors would sit. They would then mentor the tributes, providing them with insight into the arena. We weren't so lucky; District 12 had only ever had one victor in the past, and he had committed suicide soon after, driven mad by what he had done and experienced. Whatever tributes reaped from District 12 were on their own.

The Mayor stepped up to the podium then and began his typical speech. I zoned out for most of this; it was just the story of how Panem had come to be, and I had heard it once a year all my life. There was nothing new for me to hear.

I was still ignoring the Mayor when a collective gasp around me made me wonder what I had missed. Did the old man pass out, or say something ridiculous, I wondered? The faces around me were not amused, however; they were distraught. I noticed Marjorie crying, clinging to Maysilee's hand with all her strength.

"What just happened?" I hissed to Adoxa.

"They twist for the Quarter Quell was announced," she replied emotionlessly. I swore under my breath; I had forgotten, it was the 50th Hunger Games this year, which mean even more brutality to celebrate the anniversary. Typically the president would have made a televised announcement with the twist prior to the reaping, but this year they had decided to give that 'privelidge' to the mayors of the districts.

"What is it?"

"Two of each." Adoxa stammered. "There'll be two male and two female tributes, not just one."

I swore again. That would make for an even larger bloodbath, and an even harder time for everyone involved.

My attention zoned in on the Mayor, as he elaborated on the rules for this special Quarter Quell. "As our President Snow has declared, this year, to demonstrate how Panem requires the most of all its citizens, not one, but two boys and two girls shall be chosen as tributes, so that the Capitol can see our enthusiasm for the Games, and so that we may better be reminded of the anarchy that the Capitol has saved us from!"

All of us grimaced, feeling the increased risk that descended upon the children of District 12. I noticed that the three girls next to me had grasped each other's hands; it looked as if Adoxa and Marjorie were clinging to Maysilee with all their strength, using her as a tether to keep them safe and grounded. Only Maysilee kept her eyes on the stage, her gaze set and stoic.

Tilla had stepped up to the podium, smiling in a way I thought she imaged made her look caring and interested. "Happy Hunger Games, everyone!" She called out. "Now, I know how much everyone likes some suspense, but why don't we get right down to it? First up, let's find out which lovely ladies will be going into the arena."

She stepped up to one of two large glass containers, the one tinted a faint pink. She fished around for a bit and drew out two small sheets of paper. Beaming, she returned to the podium.

"Let's see! First up is… Lissa Singiris!"

Adoxa and Maysilee both winced, and I knew if I had been looking I would have seen Olivia cringe as well. Little Lissa was barely twelve; her birthday had been last week, making her just barely eligible for the reaping. This was a true case of rotten luck, as her name could only have been in there once or twice at most. A wail broke out somewhere in the audience as Lissa began the long trek from the back of the crowds to the stage. I whistled under my breath; the girl was small, but she held her head high, refusing to cry. She was tough for a twelve year old.

Tilla called for the crowd to quiet, choosing to hear the unhappy mutterings as enthusiastic discussion of the little girl's merits. Once we had adequately quieted down, she cried out the next name.

"Maysilee Donner!"

Adoxa let out a sharp gasp, turning to look to her friend. Tears were already streaming down Marjorie's face. Both girls tightly grasped Maysilee's hands. In between them, Maysilee's face was blank; she stared straight ahead with unfocused eyes. She wasn't moving. Already, the cameras perched on the rooftops around us were focusing in on her, and soon all of Panem would see this frozen girl.

Without thinking, I reached around Adoxa and pinched Maysilee on the shoulder, startling her out of her trance. "Get up there," I hissed to her. "If you stall, you'll be marked as weak, easy pickings, especially after Lissa just strode up there like she was bringing home a feast for her family's dinner!"

That shook her out of it. Putting on a stoic face, she calmly detached her hands from her two friends. Adoxa had joined Marjorie in the weeping, although Adoxa wasn't approaching hysterics as Marjorie was; in Maysilee's absence, the two girls hugged each other tightly, watching as their closest friend and sister went up to what, most likely, would be a gruesome death.

Even as the girls next to me wept, I gave an internal sigh of relief. Olivia hadn't been called. She was safe for one more year. I wouldn't have to watch her be butchered and have to pretend to be amused and enthralled. My body felt light, almost elated.

"Lovely! Just lovely, what elegant girls District 12 has!" Tilla cheered, politely clapping, turned towards the girls. On the stage, Maysilee clasped Lissa's hand tightly and gave the younger girl a reassuring smile. Good move, I thought to myself; the public would see her as caring, and that might end up getting her some popular appeal, which could mean some sponsors if she was really lucky. At the very least, it made up for Maysilee's delayed reaction, as she now looked the picture of calm.

My sense of relief at Olivia dodging the reaping was short-lived as Tilla declared, "And now, time for the gentlemen!"

All I could focus on was the blue-tinted glass globe that she now shuffled through. My name was in there more times than it had any right to be, I knew. My palms tingled with nerves, and my breath came rapidly, like Hendrick's did whenever he ran for any length of time.

The first name was called: "Reed Grouson!"

My body wanted to immediately de-tense, because usually only the one name was called. I barely even noticed as Reed, a fifteen-year-old boy that I vaguely recognized from school as an athletic, if somewhat dim kid, made his way to the stage. My mind kept shouting, _you aren't safe yet_, even as my body relied upon years of training, believing that one name called would mean safety for one more year.

That sense of safety was a lie this reaping, my mind kept saying.

Tilla read the name of the final tribute for District 12.

With a bright, sunny smile she called, "And our final tribute is… Haymitch Abernathy!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Just wanted to say a quick thanks to starkidhaymitch for leaving a review, and BunniesOfDoom and friendsrule11 for adding it to their favorites! I also want to let you know that this story will update on a weekly basis, with an update sometime on Saturday or Sunday (sometimes very late Sunday to early Monday, depending on what kind of week it is XD). Thanks for reading! If you ever have a question, feel free to message me about it, I'd love to talk to you. n_n**  
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**_Chapter 2_

"No!" I heard Olivia gasp sharply behind me, instinctively wrapping her arms around me from behind as if she could hold me and keep me from the stage. Adoxa and Marjorie turned to look at me with their watery eyes; Adoxa even reached out and squeezed my shoulder, as if she wanted to give me reassurance or strength.

There was no time for any of it.

Firmly I detached myself from Olivia's embrace, but I refused to turn around and look at her as it would break my resolve. In the past, I had thought if I were reaped there would be a thousand things racing through my mind: despair, fury at the unfairness of it all, determination to somehow win, horror at what it meant I would have to do. Maybe I'd even relief, once Hendrick and I both were eligible, as if I was called it would mean he wasn't. In all respects I was completely wrong: my mind went silent, and all I could think was, 'I have to get to the stage and get through this before I break. Weakness will equal death. Get to the stage.'

Mercifully, it was a short walk for me given my proximity to the stage. I held my head high and kept my eyes hard as I joined Lissa, Maysilee, and Reed on the stage, still refusing to meet the gaze of anyone.

As Tilla brightly returned to her seat, replaced by the Mayor reading the Treaty of Treason, Reed tapped my hand. Moving only my eyes, I glanced down; Maysilee had grasped Reed's hand as well. My eyebrows rose slightly in surprise. A show of solidarity among the tributes, even if it was just for show for our district, might encourage everyone in our district to band together like we seemed to do and raise enough money for a life-saving gift in the arena.

Or, I thought cynically, it would encourage the other tributes to pick us off first, for fear that we were forming an alliance. That was the last thing I wanted; allying myself with people I'd only have to end up killing seemed like a waste of time and energy, especially considering there would be no way to trust the others well enough to not constantly think they'd stab me as soon as I tried to catch some rest.

I kept my hand firmly at my side.

When the Mayor finished reading the treaty, I was forced to meet Maysilee's glare. As per custom, all the tributes had to shake hands before being hurried off the stage. First, Maysilee and Lissa shook hands while Reed and I did the same; Reed had the same Seam eyes as me, so determined gray eyes met as we shook hands. I didn't know if he'd do well or not, but at that moment I knew the Seam was losing someone that would've made a hard worker and a good husband to someone.

Next, Reed and Lissa switched places. Lissa barely came up to my hip, she was so small, and I was painfully reminded of Hendrick as she reached up her small hand to me. I shook her hand quickly, not wanting to linger on her face, still so composed for a child, yet clearly wide-eyed and scared.

Finally, Lissa and Maysilee switched. Although she held out her hand as was her duty, Maysilee's eyes burned at me. She was not pleased I had refused to go along with her ploy. A twinge of guilt pricked at my mind, but I refused to show it, instead shrugging as I shook her hand. I couldn't help but notice that her hand, while far softer than my own, wasn't without its callouses, and I wondered how a soft merchant girl like her had developed such hands.

If she wanted to verbally berate me, she would have to wait. As soon as our hands dropped and the anthem finished, Peacekeepers swept forward to whisk the four of us off to the Justice Building, where we would wait to make our final goodbyes to anyone that cared enough to come to us. With luck, I thought, it would give Maysilee time to forget what I'd done; it'd be disastrous for the both of us if she kept it as a grudge and tried to kill me at the Cornucopia.

Not that I expected Maysilee to be a bloodthirsty one. As far as my fellow District 12 tributes were concerned, I was fairly certain none of them would be a threat for me. Lissa, unless she was far cleverer than any of us knew, would be one of the first to go; Reed, while athletic, was too good a guy to hurt anyone, a fact I knew from years of watching him defend smaller kids from bullies at the school without ever throwing a punch of his own.

Maysilee was trickier. She'd never be able to kill Lissa, or any kid under the age of thirteen. For all her bark, she cared too much about kids. I had little doubt, however, that if it came down to her and someone like a Career, or an older tribute hunting a little one, that she would fight back tooth and nail. She would not go quietly, and for that I had to give her a grudging admiration.

For myself, I knew I'd be able to hold my own for at least a little while. Sneaky bastards usually did well in the arena.

In no time at all the four of us were firmly ushered to separate rooms. I knew this was where I'd have to say goodbye, and for that reason alone I hated it. Briefly I considered tearing the ridiculously elegant room apart, ripping through the soft fabric and plush cushions, ruining its opulence and maybe making it a bit like home in the process, but I didn't have the enthusiasm for it. The shock of being reaped, the adrenaline that must have kept my face stoic and my body moving, was catching up to me, and all I could do was sink wearily into the sofa, letting it support my body instead of my bones, which felt as if they had been replaced with jelly.

The dread of saying goodbye made me feel ill. I didn't know how I would handle it, leaving my mother and brother for the Games, not knowing if I'd ever even see them again. Goodbyes in general weren't my strong suit, and I didn't want to risk an emotional breakdown in front of the cameras. I needed a way to dodge the goodbye, even though I knew it would break my mother's heart if I did end up dying in the arena and she never even got the chance to see me one last time.

As my mind churned over this puzzle, a shoe hit me square in the chest.

"What the hell-" I swore, sitting bolt upright, finding myself looking at the angry eyes of Adoxa.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, sneering to hide my surprise.

"Maysilee's family is visiting with her now, so I decided to spend the time until I could see her by talking to you, since your family isn't here yet because they were so far back in the crowds." She answered. "Please give me back my shoe," she added, as if I had taken it from her like a little boy tormenting his sister.

"No, you'll just throw it at me again. And I don't want to talk to you." Despite what I said, I lobbed the shoe back in her general direction, and let my head slump back onto the sofa.

"I'm sure," Adoxa agreed as she slipped her foot back into her shoe. "But you need to. What are you thinking, making Maysilee and the others out to look like the fools, and isolating yourself?"

I rolled my eyes, forgetting she couldn't see them.

"Listen, your survival in there depends on how well liked you are by the public, and if you make yourself out to be the bad guy of District 12, no one is going to want to help you."

"That's fine," I mumbled. "I don't need their help. I'll figure something else out. But no alliances. They always end in one person killing the other the first time it seems like a good idea to do so."

She sighed, and I heard the rustle of fine fabric as she came to stand before me. "You might not need the help, but May will. And if she dies because of you, I will never forgive you."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, if she dies I'll probably follow her not too long after," I replied, wishing she would just go away. If she didn't, I was afraid I'd go through the reporting nightmare I knew awaited me at the train station with a fierce headache.

"No, you won't," Adoxa replied softly as she turned away from me. The Peacekeeper outside the door had called for her to leave. She paused at the door. "Also? Don't call me sweetheart. I'll check on your family for you when I make my rounds in the Seam."

With a quick nod to the Peacekeeper, she hurried out of the room, probably off to visit Maysilee. I was glad to see her go, even as I was relieved to hear she'd look after my family. I expected she would, as she was somewhat known in the Seam for sneaking off with surplus medicine from her family's apothecary shop and, occasionally, bread from the bakery to bring to those in the Seam who needed it but couldn't afford it, but to hear it confirmed by her alleviated a burden that would only weigh me down in the arena.

In the short span of time between Adoxa leaving and my next visitor arriving, I formulated a plan. I held my breath as the door opened, hoping it wouldn't be my family, and was relieved to instead see a freckled face and a pale brown braid. I could see she had been crying due to her red eyes, but, knowing her, she would refuse to continue to do so in front of me.

Before she could say anything, I quickly said, "Olivia, I need your help, and you're going to hate me for it."

She quirked an eyebrow at me and crossed her arms against her chest. "I don't think I can sneak you out of here under my skirt if that's what you're going for, but yes, I would punch you for asking."

"As much fun as that would be, no." I knew she was trying to lighten the mood but making jokes, but I needed her to be serious. I needed her to promise me that she'd do what I was going to ask. "Can you be serious for a moment?"

"Haymitch, if you want me to be serious, all you'll get is me sobbing, are you sure you want that?"

I sighed, growing frustrated. Time was running out, and I needed Olivia's help, but the last thing I wanted was for her potential final memory of me to be a fight. I didn't even want to have to ask her for a favor. All I wanted was for us to be able to just talk and laugh, like she was trying to do, and for her to sit next to me with her head on my shoulder, content in stealing moments of doing nothing.

I had just been chosen as a tribute for the Quarter Quell, my mind reminded me obnoxiously. Clearly, the time of me getting what I wanted was over.

Standing up, I walked over to join her. "No. No crying. If you start crying, I very well might, and then how will they make me pretty for the cameras?" I asked her, earning myself a slight grin. Taking her by the shoulders, I made her look at me. "Now listen, Liv. I need you to do something for me."

"Name it," she replied, without hesitation.

"Don't let my mother and Hendrick visit me."

"What?" My request baffled her, caused her to take a step back. "Haymitch. You can't be serious here. What do you mean, keep your family from you?"

"I can't say goodbye to them, Liv, I just can't." I tried to explain, failing miserably at it. "You know how I hate goodbyes, hate anything that ends up with people being all emotional. If I have to sit in a room with my mother and brother crying and hugging me, I won't be able to leave. I won't be strong enough to fight my way back here."

She shook her head, her braid whipping around her head like a cat's tail. "No, this isn't fair to them. I mean, what if, what if you-" Biting her lip, she turned away from me, unable to finish her sentence. Tears stood out in her eyes, but she was forcefully fighting them back.

"If I die?" I finished for her. She nodded, still not meeting my gaze. "It'd be best. That way their last memory of me isn't me breaking down in some overstuffed Capitol room having a kid's temper-tantrum because I don't want to play the big kids' game." It was a weak argument, but it was the truth. "Listen, when I get on the train, I'll write a letter, or something. I'll get a message back to them so that, if I do die, they'll have some closure. I just can't risk being weak now, and being forced to say goodbye to them would do that."

"Don't be so damn selfish!" Yelling at me, Olivia finally met my gaze again, her eyes blazing. "They love you, Haymitch, they deserve to get to say their goodbyes in person, instead of crying at the television screen, wishing they had been able to have just one more moment before all hell broke loose!" She backed away from me, running her hands through her hair, causing some strands to fall free of the braid. "And this! You're about to go off and probably- probably _die_, and we're fighting about me lying to your parents because you're being a coward?"

I looked away. She was right, painfully so. But I still knew I couldn't do it. "Look. This might be my last request from you. It's stupid, and it's cowardly, yes, but it's all I ask. Are you really going to turn me down when I need you the most?"

For a moment, I thought she was going to storm out of the room, or possibly throw something at me like Adoxa had. Instead, she glared at me, then seemed to crumple. "Fine," she replied quietly, hiding her face again and hugging herself. "Fine. I'll keep them away somehow. Although I'm going to feel awful, and I'm going to resent myself for getting to see you when they couldn't, and I'm going to hate you for leaving."

"That last one isn't my fault," I pointed out. "I would very much prefer to stay."

Olivia had crossed to the sofa and threw herself on it, hiding her face in the cushions. "I wish it was me," she said, her voice muffled. "I wish it was me going in, not you. I could deal with this so much better if it was me."

"Now that is stupid," I told her matter-of-factly, sitting on the arm of the sofa by her head. "You'd get eaten alive in there- maybe literally. And then I'd have to declare war on the Capitol to avenge your death, and it'd be a huge headache. No, this is better." Absent-mindedly I found my fingers playing with a strand of her hair. "I have a shot. I know I do. And knowing you're back here hating me will be a huge motivation, I'm sure."

Propping her face up on her hands, she looked at me, smiling weakly. The tears had finally overcome her willpower, but she had wiped her face on the cushion and refused to cry while I looked at her. "I'll be sure to hate you particularly hard once the games begin, then, so the sheer force of my bitterness and rage will force you to come back."

"Exactly. Because coming home to adoring crowds is dull, it's much more fun to come back to an angry girl throwing rocks at me."

A knock on the door signaled that there were only two minutes left.

I stood up and pulled her up with me. "I'm not going to just give up in there. I'm going to do whatever I need to in order to get back here."

"I know you will," she agreed, wiping her face with the back of her hands. "I'll check in on Hendrick and your mother for you, and every time I jab myself with a needle or trip carrying freshly-mended linens, I'll think of you."

I grinned at her. "You'll be thinking about me too much, you'll forget to breathe." I grabbed her and held her tight to me, surprising her. "I'd promise to do the same, but if I think about you too much I'll end up and get myself killed, because I'll be too busy trying to remember the specific shade of red you turn when you're angry to remember to not die."

Wrapping her arms around me, she buried her face in my chest, and I could feel her laugh. "That'd be no good, Haymitch. And you decided this already, I turn the color of an apple, just off the tree."

Pressing my face to her hair, I tried to memorize her scent, the feel of her. A dull ache in my chest caught my attention, but I didn't have the time to wonder about what it was as the door opened once again, the Peacekeeper declaring time was up.

Ignoring him, I gave Olivia a quick squeeze. "Well, Liv, any parting advice? Know of a good way to kill a man?"

She shook her head. "Sadly, no. The only advice I can think of is to just stay alive."

"I think that goes without saying, O wise one."

I let her go, as the Peacekeeper was beginning to sound particularly testy. Just before she turned to leave, she bounced up on her toes to kiss my cheek, her usual goodbye. As she did, she pressed something into my hand.

"Something to remember home by," she explained quickly, squeezing my hand. Then the Peacekeeper was with us, grabbing Olivia roughly by the shoulders, forcing her to go.

"Hey!" I shouted, resisting the urge to run at him, to hurt him for treating Olivia so forcefully. "Hey, keep your hands off her!"

As the door slammed, I caught a last glimpse of her, and then she was gone.

I knew saying goodbye to my family would be impossible, but I wasn't prepared for the effect Olivia leaving would have on me. I felt as if my chest would burst, and it was difficult to swallow normally, but I still didn't have the luxury of dwelling on it. I had to compose myself before we were taken to the train; I could make my peace with leaving when they finally left me alone to sleep.

To give my mind something else to focus on, I looked at what she had given me; a goose feather, the tip darkened with coal dust, attached to a loop of twine to make a necklace. I knew it instantly; it had been Olivia's lucky charm for years. The feather came from her favorite goose, a surly thing that attacked anyone that came within three feet of Olivia, including me.

In fact, I met Olivia for the first time because of the demonic thing; I had been walking home from the coal mines as she passed with her gaggle. The gander decided I was a threat to her- I was in a particularly sour mood that day, as the overseer at the mines had been quick with the blows and curses- and rushed me. Just as I was about to lash out at it even as I tried to deflect it, she rushed over in order to calm the bird down, check to see if I was alright, and keep me from killing it. In apology, she invited me to eat lunch with her. A kid from the Seam never says no to a meal, so even though I was pretty sure I disliked the little girl with weird green eyes and geese for friends, I accepted.

She ended up naming the evil thing Mitch in my honor.

A Peacekeeper barged in and jerked his head over his shoulder. "Time to go, kid." I saved myself the disgrace of being hauled out of there against my will and followed the Peacekeeper, my face a mask of irritation. Better to be irritated than afraid when the cameras arrived.

When we got to the car I managed to carefully ignore it, refusing to ooh and ahh over the extravagant technology, and was grateful that all four tributes would be arriving independently to the train station: I didn't fancy the idea of a closed-quarters car ride with Maysilee after the stunt I pulled. I savored the short trip, soaking up the relative privacy and quiet. It would all change as soon as we arrived, as everything would be a cluster of cameras and shouting.

My car was the first to arrive. I wanted to stay in the backseat and wait for the others there, but they would have none of that; rather than being dragged out of the car, I shoved aside the Peacekeeper reaching for me and hopped out myself, then stalked to the train's doorway. My face in the television screens looked irritated, yes, but also almost bored. Good, I thought: no one will think I'm some scared backwater kid ripe for the killing. The cameras flashed obsessively, reporters swarming about to get the best possible angle. I was almost grateful when the next car came bearing Maysilee, as her arrival at least lessened the media attention on me.

If she had been crying, she made a point of hiding it. She stepped out of the car gracefully, accepting the Peacekeeper's help as if he were a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage, with a winning smile on her face. It looked more like she was preparing for an elegant vacation than a bloodbath. She waved demurely to the cameras as she came to join me in the doorway, a glowing contrast to my surliness. At one point she even put her arm around my shoulder, laughing as if she were having the most fun in the world, but as she did so she fiercely pinched my shoulder, causing me to wince; a message that she was nowhere near done with me.

The train ride would not be a pleasant one.

The two other tributes, Lissa and Reed, showed up close to one another. The little Lissa still had a few tears rolling down her cheeks, but she scrubbed them off the instant she was out of the car and purposefully strode up to join us, where Maysilee automatically took her hand with another charming smile. Reed followed, his face set, devoid of emotion, and took Lissa's other hand. Once again, I stood off to the side, determined to separate myself from their doomed pact. The cameras went wild for what seemed like an hour of painful flashes and awkward poses; when the four of us were finally let inside, it was a relief.

Once the doors shut, the train started, speeding off towards the Capitol. Maysilee immediately turned towards me, her charming smiles replaced by pure fury, but was cut off as Tilla and three others rushed towards us.

"Well then," Tilla announced, clapping her hands. "Shall we show you to your rooms? Dalton, you take Haymitch, Timon, you get Reed, Rodaxa is with darling Lissa and I myself shall escort Maysilee. You'll all be given a bit of a reprieve to do whatever you'd like- tidy up, change, maybe even take a quick cat nap –and then it's back for dinner and a bit of getting-to-know-you."

Her smile was bright, but clearly a calculating one up close. The flowers in her hair weren't just random buds, but roses in a variety of colors, and all still with thorns. As Dalton whisked me off towards my room, Tilla caught my stare and held it, her expression changing to one of a smirk, before she turned on heel and walked off, chatting amicably with Maysilee.

I shuddered, not liking what I saw on that woman's face. She was our only ally once we went into the arena, since District 12 had no victor to serve as mentor; our fate rested partially on her shoulders. It was uncommon to have your escort serve as your mentor, as usually the Capitol appointed a victor from another district to mentor-less tributes, but it seemed as if Tilla had requested she be permitted to perform both duties. When the district first heard about it, a little before the reaping, we had taken it as a good sign: mentors from other districts were always chancy, as it was more likely that they'd sabotage you to help their own tributes win than genuinely try and get you life-saving sponsors who bought expensive, life-saving gifts. Now, being ushered toward yet another painfully luxurious, foreign room, I wondered if it really was such a good thing for me. Something about Tilla was wrong to me, from her thorny hair to the fake smile she wore whenever the public could see her.

More than anything else, though, my reservation with Tilla was that, if I had read her expression right, the woman who could best help me live had already decided she did not like me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry this took such a long time! All of a sudden midterms are upon me, as well as the sudden acquisition of a social life. However! Next week is the much desired spring break, in which I will do my best to not only update properly, but write a bit back-up chapters, so that if I do miss a week of writing, that week's chapter will already be done, so no updates will be missed.

As a result, however, this chapter might feel a bit shorter or a bit more rushed. If you happen to notice an egregious errors or discontinuities, please let me know so that I may fix them.

Thanks to all the people who added this story to their favorites/alert lists, and thanks so much to everyone who left a review! Your words make me smile and make me want to keep writing.

* * *

_Chapter 3:_

The room Dalton left me in was bigger than my home back in the Seam. It even had a private bathroom and dressing room, which I found excessive- but then again, everything about the Capitol was excessive to me.

I had an hour to kill before dinner. Dalton had explained that I should take a shower and change into some new, finer clothing from the chests of drawers in my room. While I had told him I would to get him to leave, I had no intention of it. The clothes on my back and the lingering layer of coal dust on my skin connected me to District 12, and I wanted to hang on to those connections for as long as I could. Instead, I threw myself onto the overly plush mattress and toyed idly with the feather pendant Olivia had given me.

Looking at it, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had forgotten to tell her something, or that I'd wasted my time with her by arguing. More than anything, the thought that I wouldn't see her tomorrow, hauling a bag of laundry bigger than she was to the Merchant District, smirking at me, drove home the reality of the coming Games. The face that I saw when I closed my mind should've been my mother, or even Hendrick, but all I could see was Olivia.

"Wake up!" Someone said sharply. I blinked my eyes open; I must've fallen asleep, lost in the pillows of the bed. Somehow, the comforter was over my face.

Footsteps indicated that someone was coming closer, then something punched me, or at least attempted to; a pillow protected me from the blow. "I know you're in that cocoon, Haymitch, and if you don't get out of it soon you're not going to have to worry about the Games because Tilla will kill you herself!"

Maysilee, of course.

Somehow, I found my way out of my nest of blankets. "Did I miss dinner?" The question would probably only serve to make her think I was mocking her, but I hadn't eaten anything for hours that day, and the idea of a real meal was one of the few plus sides I could come up with for the whole ordeal; missing one would be pouring salt in the wound of the reaping.

To my surprise, no verbal abuse was lobbied my way. "Yes, you did, but I saved you some, but you have got to get up now otherwise Tilla really will kill you. The recap will be starting in ten minutes, and it's more than mandatory."

"Wonder why you were the one to come get me." I mumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"Dalton came, but thought you had vanished. Claimed he poked at the bed, but got no reaction, and when he pulled back the comforter a bit he didn't see a thing." She laughed; it was a tense one, but the sound was still surprisingly nice to hear. "You're just so skinny, he didn't believe that you AND all those pillows could be under the sheets. Anyway, Tilla decided not to worry about it, said she'd be speaking to us all after the recap, anyway, and that dinner was just a formality, but when you continued to not show up she got significantly testier. I swear, more thorns showed up in that creepy hair of hers. Finally, she got sick of waiting, and sent me."

Dragging myself over to the mirror, I attempted to flatten my sleep-tousled hair, then decided it simply wasn't worth it. "So, I didn't miss much?"

"On the contrary, you missed learning all about our new… mentor." Maysilee replied, hugging herself. "The woman is made of ice, Haymitch. She couldn't care less about us, only that one of us might win. She even suggested to me and Reed that we take out Lissa early on, to get it out of the way- while Lissa was sitting between us!"

For the first time I turned to look directly at her, my face a mask hiding my outrage at the suggestion. "And what did you say to that?" I asked, quietly, to keep the anger in my voice from breaking free. It was a harsh reality that Lissa would have to die if I was going to live, but I refused to think about that, and refused even more adamantly to be the one to do it.

She smiled coldly. "I said that I'd personally kill the one who kills Lissa, therefore it could never be me to do it."

I patted her on the shoulder absent-mindedly as I came to stand next to her. "We might just be able to agree on that. This Tilla woman is that harsh, then?"

"This was just a half-hour dinner's worth of information." She replied, her eyes on my hand. Then, as if a light bulb had gone on, she suddenly jerked away from me. "Hey! And don't you think my coming to get you means I'm not upset with you for the way you've been acting!"

I waved a hand dismissively at her. "Oh, don't be so upset, sweetheart. It's a favor! Everyone's going to look at you three and think, 'Oh, how noble, they're standing together until the end!', and then look at me, the bastard outcast. No one's going to want to help me, but everyone's going to want to help you, the golden-haired angel of District 12. Maybe if you're lucky the stylist will give you a coal halo as part of your costume."

I thought for a moment she was going to shout back at me, to say something, but instead she just sighed and shook her head. "Is that what you think, really? This is a game for the press?"

"Yes," I shrugged. "What else could it be?"

"Did you ever think it might possibly be genuine? That I really want the four of us to be close?"

"If that's what you want, you're a bigger idiot than even I thought. The odds are, we're all going to die in there; you're just setting yourself up for heartbreak after heartbreak by getting involved with any other tributes." I glanced at the clock on the wall and turned towards the door. "Come on, sweetheart, you're the one that said we're on a timeline, otherwise Dame Thorn will make this all a moot point."

For a minute I thought she wasn't going to follow me as I left the room, but then I heard her voice: "You're going the wrong way. Who's the idiot here again?"

Turning around, I scowled. "Oh, I forgot, you of course know your way all around such fine things as trains. Look, you've even got a bit of finery on for the occasion!" I remarked as I caught up with her, noticing the glint of gold on her dress. Most people from the Seam had never even seen gold; the fact that Maysilee was wearing such a precious material seemed frivolous.

She rolled her eyes at me as a perfectly manicured hand came up to trace the source of the glint, a golden pin with a bird on it. "Oh, stop being so bitter. It's my token. It's not quite so… homey as yours, but I assure you, it's every bit as significant."

"Token, huh? What is that thing, anyway?" If it was her token, it couldn't just be some simple accessory she happened to grab; Maysilee, for all her faults, wasn't so empty-headed as that. She'd at least pick something important to her.

"It's a mockingjay. It's been in my family for a long time- a sort of heirloom." She explained, hooking some of her hair behind her ear as we walked. "I thought it was appropriate. The mockingjay was never supposed to survive, let alone exist. Do you know of them?"

Shrugging, I shook my head. "I don't pay much attention when it comes to birds. Can't say that I do. They descended from mockingbirds, right?"

Smiling, she nodded. "Them and jabberjays, the mutations the Capitol invented to spy on the people. Such a stubborn bird, they were never supposed to even exist, but the jabberyjays refused to die off. I thought, perhaps, it'd serve as a good token, reminding me to be the stubborn one that refuses to just die out quietly because the Capitol tells it to."

"That's… actually pretty smart," I remarked, legitimately impressed. I had no idea that anyone from the Merchant's District, let alone Maysilee Donner, thought like that. The way she spoke about the Capitol, it was as if she hated them just as much as those of us from the Seam did, only she also seemed to refuse to be quiet about it. While I didn't recognize the mockingjay, I was willing to bet that quite a few influential people from the Capitol would, and they would know what message she was sending to them. "I'm impressed."

"That just means ever so much, Haymitch." She laughed, before turning to eye my pendant. "Well, I shared mine. Your turn."

By that time we had finally reached the entryway to the viewing room, where we'd watch the recap. I shrugged, smirking slightly at her. "Looks like you'll have to wait for that story."

"I'll hold you to it," she promised, before turning to face the cluster of people around the television. Tilla stood behind a sofa where Reed and Lissa sat. Poor Lissa looked worn out, and had to be propped up by Reed's shoulder; this was too much for a girl her age. Tilla didn't seem to notice. Her expression was hawkish as her head snapped up to look at the two of us in the doorway.

"Aah, our two stars finally returned." She smiled, a cold, calculating expression that never touched her eyes. "You're the ones who really need to see this. Have to keep your finger on the pulse of the competition and all, you know. Move aside, Lissa, let the two of them sit front and center, there's a dear."

Maysilee and I exchanged glances. I still firmly believed that Tilla didn't like me, but I was disgusted to realize that her disliking me was better than her not caring about me at all. She had already written Lissa off, which mean the girl was going to get no training and no support from her whatsoever.

For the time being, however, it was best not to fight her. I didn't know enough about the woman to act one way or the other, and Maysilee wasn't about to cause undue tension right before the recap. We took our places in silence, with Maysilee next to Reed and me next to Lissa. When Lissa timidly rested her head on my shoulder, I didn't shrug her off.

As the Panem anthem played to signal the start of the recap, I felt a hand grip my shoulder. Tilla's. It had to be her hand, as the nails felt like small thorns digging into me. She spoke softly, leaning down so her mouth was near my ears. "Now pay attention, and figure out who you'll kill first."

Next to me, Maysilee stiffened. She had clearly heard Tilla as well.

"You may be our surrogate mentor," I replied just as softly, "but that's not really my sort of strategy."

She laughed sharply. "A strategy, other than immediate offense? How precious."

For the first time, I was grateful for the recap to begin; it forced Tilla to stop talking. She even relinquished my shoulder and stepped back, away from the sofa of tributes, as if being near us would curse her luck as well.

It was a surreal feeling, watching the people we were about to either kill or be killed by. Each reaping took twice as long as normal, to accommodate the double portion of tributes. The fight to be named tribute in the Career districts was disturbing as always, but this year had a particular twist: right from the start, District 1 set itself apart with flash by naming a pair of fraternal twins tributes, a title they both accepted with unrestrained pride. The girl in particular had a smile like a razor as she ascended the stage. All four tributes from District 2 were seventeen, a clear advantage from the start, and all in peak physical condition. District 4's stand-out was a short-haired girl with a manic gleam to her eyes; she looked like she was capable of doing anything, without thinking twice about it. There was another young girl, from District 6, who couldn't have been much older than Lissa; when she was called, Tilla laughed sharply and announced, "Look at that, a free kill," causing Lissa to tense up next me. The other districts passed in a blur of faces and reactions, some stoic, some emotional wrecks; it was almost impossible to feel anything, because if you allowed yourself to care about any of the faces for even a moment, you would never be able to leave the arena alive.

Finally, a familiar venue flashed onto the screen, accompanied by equally familiar faces. I couldn't speak for Lissa, Reed or Maysilee, but watching myself called felt like some sort of twisted nightmare; it didn't matter what I knew, I just couldn't see the handsome boy on the television screen, with barely brushed hair and cold gray eyes, as anyone but some poor bastard of a tribute. No matter what I knew, the boy on the stage, isolating himself from the offer of camaraderie that the dark-haired boy that both was and was not Reed extended, could not be me. The golden-haired girl firmly holding the hands of her surrounding tributes, eyes burning into the camera, refusing to look away, could not be Maysilee, and that little girl clinging to her hand, determined not to cry, couldn't be Lissa. It was some cruel joke.

It had to be a cruel joke, because Tilla Bloom was laughing at it.

"Oh, how darling, how absolutely precious you three are!" She's jeering, gesturing at the miniature not-Maysilee, not-Reed, and not-Lissa on the screen. "Holding hands like you're singing a song or playing a game in the schoolyard, because that certainly won't get you killed in a heartbeat."

"Just what are you trying to do?" Maysilee shouts, leaping up from the sofa. "What kind of mentor are you, that you just point and laugh?"

"She's right!" Reed adds, glaring at her over his shoulder. "It's your job to keep us alive, not use us for some sort of sick comedy show."

Tilla smirks, clasping her hands together in front of her in a flash of blood-red nailpolish. "Oh, but my dears. You've already done yourselves in! Well, at least you have," she amends, gesturing towards Reed and Lissa. "Darling Maysilee here, well, she showed some genuine thought in her little gesture, yes, but it'll only serve to mark the two of you as targets- can't let the smart one amass an allied army, now, can we?" Then, turning her eyes on me, she smiled even wider. "You'll notice this brilliant boy wanted not a thing to do with it. By cutting himself off from you lot, he's making sure he doesn't have to give a care about anything but himself, and isn't that just so smart of him to do so? No one will even think twice about him as a lone player until the last few stragglers fumble about for the final kills, so while the alliances are busy butchering one another into bite-sized chunks, he can scamper off and bide his time. Cowardly, but effective. Am I wrong?"

"Well, thank all that's bright and beautiful in the world that the Capitol sent you for us," I scowled, rolling my eyes. "I never would've thought up that brilliant plan without your expert mentoring. How can you think of such things?"

Everything she had said was painfully accurate, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

Laughing, Tilla shrugged. "I just need a victor, my dear. A real victor, something to be proud of… or, at least, something I can use as evidence of my talents. Because, as much as I love to feel appreciated, my aspirations are so much greater than playing at strategies with a pack of unlucky, unwashed and unfed urchins." She turned on her heel. "I'd never ask you to like me, or thank me. All I want is for one of you to simply not die. Should any of you want to talk strategy, come find me. Otherwise, go scrape the coal dust from under your nails and don't get in my sight."

The four of us watched her go in silence. As soon as she had left, however, Maysilee let out a strangled noise and hurled a shoe at the door she had just passed through.

"The… the nerve of her!" She gasped, enraged. "The things she was insinuating, the games she's playing, I… I just cannot believe it!"

Reed and I exchanged a quick glance.

"Hey-" Reed attempted to calm her down, but was silenced by a gesture of her hand.

"No. No, I cannot and will not deal with this. Not right now. I'm going back to my room, and I'm just going to think, as clearly I can't rely on that woman to help me."

I shrugged. "Suit yourself. Sounds like a good plan. I kind of fancy a good nap in that cloud of a bed. The white sheets really bring out the color of the coal dust under my nails." Next to me, Lissa giggled. I fluttered my nails at her. "Don't you think it's a becoming color? There's so much depth to it, Tilla just doesn't understand true taste."

Both Lissa and Reed laughed at that. Even Maysilee calmed down in her fuming just long enough to roll her eyes and smile.

What was I doing, making them laugh? Abruptly, I realized I had let them begin to encroach on my emotions, had given them an opening in my armor. Standing up, I stretched my arms back. "Well, it's late now, and I've no plans of thinking. I'm going to go pass out instead. You guys do the thinking- I'm the sneaky, cowardly bastard, remember?"

"I don't think you're cowardly," Lissa said softly. It was the first thing she had said to any of us since her name had been called.

"Well. That makes one of us. To prove it, watch me run away."

Before any one of them could say a thing more, I rushed for the door and the relative safety of the hallway, away from Lissa's soft voice, Reed's desperate eyes, and Maysilee's determined expression. I had to isolate myself from them, had to forget they existed as anything other than obstacles in the way of my very survival.

I had to keep myself from caring about them.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Hello, all! Sorry for such a gap- the last few months of college can get _quite_ busy! Anyway, at long last, here's chapter four! I will warn you my timeline from here on out might get a bit touch-and-go; I don't actually own the first book in the trilogy (I only own Mockingjay), so I don't have The Hunger Games right next to me to reference whenever I need to. I'm hoping to remedy this soon enough, and luckily have a pretty good idea of what has to happen when, but I just wanted to give a bit of a heads-up.

As always, thank you so much for all reviews and favorite stories. Please keep commenting, I love hearing your ideas and opinions! n_n

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Chapter 4:

Even though there had to have been a gap of fifteen minutes, it seemed like as soon as I shut my chambers' doors and resettled myself in the plush monstrosity that was my bed someone knocked on the door. I groaned. It didn't matter who was outside the door, I certainly did not want to talk to them, unless they came bearing a five-course meal served by Olivia herself.

I resolved to ignore them and buried my head in a pillow shaped like a diamond, grateful it was ironically the softest of the bunch.

The knocking did not stop, however. Soon, a voice called out. "Haymitch? Are you awake? Can I come in?"

Recognizing the voice through my protective layer of pillows, I groaned once again; it was Lissa, sounding so small and scared that every brotherly instinct Hendrick had ever conditioned into my thick skull screamed out for me to throw open the door and let her in. But, thankfully, the little girl outside wasn't my brother, and I had no obligation towards her. Furthermore, if I wanted to live, I definitely didn't want to feel anything towards her at all, as she would have to die for me to survive.

To my surprise, however, the next sound to come through the doors wasn't a knock or Lissa's voice, but a boy's voice. "You can't have fallen asleep that fast. We even brought food! Come on, we just want to talk, I guess. Let us in."

My stomach gave a rumble so loud that the pair outside had to have heard it. As much as I hated the idea of seeing my fellow tributes any more than necessary, my feet betrayed me and led me to the door, where my hands finished the treachery and cracked open the door. Lissa and Reed's excited faces filled my vision. I glowered sleepily at them, "This only worked because I could smell the food and I haven't eaten anything since last night, and that's only if you count squirrel grizzle as food. Get in."

They wasted no time pushing past me. Lissa, suddenly a child again, let out a squeal of delight at the sight of my bed and launched herself into it, bouncing on the pillows. I raised my eyebrows at her. "What, squirt, your bed not bouncy enough?"

"Nope." Lissa confirmed, burrowing into a soft microfiber blanket. "My room's small, and kinda dark. I don't like it. Can I sleep here?"

"No." I answered immediately, turning to Reed. "What does she mean, her room is small and dark?"

Reed shrugged, handing me a bundle wrapped in a napkin. "Tilla must've given her the broom closet for a bedroom or something. My room isn't as nice as this, either; it's more a military barracks than a cushy hotel room. That woman's playing mind games from the start."

Scowling, I crossed over to the bed and sat on the edge of it, no longer enjoying the comfort knowing that it was my reward for being the district's stand-out male. Unwrapping the napkin, I temporarily forgot to be angry as the sight of freshly baked bread, painstakingly prepared beef, aged cheese and rich potatoes met my eyes. Breaking off a bit of the bread, I chewed it appreciatively, savoring the light feel of it on my tongue. I was willing to bet in that moment that not even Adoxa had ever tasted such perfect bread, and she was a favorite of the baker's.

Reed came to sit on the far end of my bed while I was savoring my food. As soon as he did so, Lissa rolled over to him, still bundled up in the blanket. "We should all just sleep here," she announced, more to Reed than me. "It's nicer. And bigger. I like it."

"I already said no," I protested around a mouthful of tender beef.

With a shrug, Reed grinned. "C'mon, Lis. We don't want to pester the grumpy man. I'd bed you anything May'll let you stay with her, and her room is probably made of frills and fluff. You'll like it."

"Okay," Lissa agreed, "but I want to talk to Haymitch for a bit first. So he doesn't get lonely."

"No fear of that. I have this wonderful group of friends right here," I assured her, gesturing to the food in my lap. "And once they have to go? Look at all these pals just waiting to offer me a shoulder to cry on," I added, gesturing to the pillows burying my bed.

They both laughed. That was far from the intended result, but by that point my hunger had overcome my need to shoo them away, and I decided to focus my attention on eating rather than talking. It seemed to be a better use for my mouth.

Still bundled up, Lissa inched her way over to me. A small hand snuck out from her blanket to bat at my feather pendant. "What's this?" She asked, batting at it again, as if she were a cat playing with a ribbon.

"Nothing," I replied quickly, dismissing the question.

"It's pretty. I like it."

"It's a goose feather, it's not exactly a rare gemstone, kid," I grumbled around my food.

The little girl stuck her tongue out at me, rolling over to Reed instead. "Just 'cause somethin's common doesn't mean it can't be pretty."

Reed smiled fondly at her. "You're a wise little one, aren't you?"

I eyed the two of them warily, concerned in spite of myself. They'd both have to die for me to live, so my mind was already reconciling myself with that fact, but they seemed close. Whichever one of them died first was going to cause massive emotional trauma to the other; it just didn't seem like a wise course of action. They were dooming themselves from the start simply by caring.

As I finished off the last of the food, I turned to look at two of my fellow tributes. "You guys didn't just come here to feed me, I'm not that stupid. What do you want?"

While Lissa looked almost hurt at the insinuation, Reed looked away guiltily. After a moment, he shrugged, as if resigning himself to what he was about to say, and met my gaze. "Well. Out of the lot of us, you're the one what knows the most about surviving. I mean, Lissa here's a kid, and Maysilee's a merchant girl- they don't know much as of yet. As for me, well, I work hard, but I work hard within the law. Everything I've done, I've done legally. My da, maybe not. My older brothers, maybe not. But me, I've always just played by the rules hopin' it'd make life easy for me. Guess that was a poor hope, huh?"

He paused, and I had a feeling this was the most he'd ever said at any one point in his life. Reed always had been a quiet one. He coughed once, then resumed. "Anyway. I know there's no real reason for you to do what I'm about to ask, it'll do nothing for you, but… Well, we don't have a mentor that rightly cares 'bout us. I'm not going to ask you to ally yourself with me, or defend me or Lissa or May, but… Could you, maybe, give us some tips goin' in? Some strategy?"

My knee-jerk reaction was to say no, of course. Helping any other tribute would only hurt me, take away my advantage over them. Coaching someone I needed to die seemed like a pointless effort, one that would only hurt me in the long run.

But their damn faces.

They were both looking at me like I held the secret that could save their life. We all knew I didn't, that at best I might be able to prolong it a little bit, but in times of desperation everyone likes to cling that one false hope that maybe, just maybe, someone can help you. I guess I was their designated someone.

I was going to hate myself for this.

"Strategy, huh?" I said slowly. "Well. If you want someone to team up with, you need Maysilee. I can… give _some _advice, maybe." Sighing, I rubbed my eyes. "Go get her. She might as well be here, too, if I'm digging my own grave by helping the enemy. And I make no promises what I tell you to do won't get you killed in the long run, it's not like I'm some expert at this."

Lissa launched herself at me like a small rocket, hugging me around the neck. I had the feeling that if Reed were the hugging type he'd have done the same, and I consequently thanked my rotten luck that it had at least spared me a group hug. "Get offa me, I'm not a tree," I scowled, prying her arms off of my neck. She fell back onto the mattress with another giggle, and I marveled at how someone could be so suddenly chipper on the train to her death. With another glare at Reed, who was watching the spectacle with a grin, I snapped, "And you! Go get that damn merchant girl before I change my mind!"

"Heh, of course, Haymitch, of course," Reed laughed, hurriedly leaving the room.

Belatedly I realized I should've told him to take Lissa on the trip. With a shrug, I applied myself to the rest of my meal, ignoring her. This was not easy when she once again tried to climb on me, but I was determined and continued to nibble on some cheese as she perched herself on my shoulders as if waiting for a horsey ride.

"Your hair is long," she told me, as if this were some revelation.

"Cutting it is a pain, I'm just waiting until I go bald," I replied around my full mouth of food, temporarily forgetting my vow of silence.

"Can I braid it?"

"No."

She did anyway.

When the door opened to readmit Reed, accompanied by a slightly confused Maysilee, it revealed what must have been a rather remarkable sight: Lissa, tied up with the curtains acting as a restraining jacket, as I pawed at the braid my hair had become, trying to get it back to its normal state. Maysilee couldn't help but laugh.

"Clearly, I've gone mad. I thought as much when you came to get me, saying something crazy about Haymitch being our surrogate mentor, but now I know I've lost it," she told Reed once she had composed herself. He just shrugged, grinning, as he went to work freeing Lissa from the curtain.

"Hey, I did good work on that knot," I scowled, by hair finally coming free.

"I can see that. Wanna teach it to us? Could be useful. Got a knife or something? This knot isn't budging."

I glanced around the room, then shrugged. "Nah. Nothing sharp here. I guess they don't trust us not to take the easy way out." I beckoned to Maysilee as I crossed over to Lissa and Reed. "Get over here, sweetheart, and I'll show you three how to tie some knots. It's not the most useful skill in the world but it looks like it's where we're starting, anyway."

"You can make traps and nets with knots, though. I call that useful." Maysilee replied seriously as she joined us. "Especially for me and Lissa. You two," she continued, gesturing at me and Reed, "have a fair shot at overpowering an opponent. The two of us are going to have to be… craftier."

Leaning against the wall, I nodded. "You two are dead on the first day if you don't think a step faster than everyone else, that's for sure." In response to Maysilee's sharp look, I shrugged. "The kid's gonna hear it sooner or later. It's better she hears it from me than from a stranger when the betting odds go live after the training scores come out and she's at the bottom."

"How can you just say things like that?" May demanded, completely ignoring the knot which still kept Lissa in place. "Do you know what getting such a low training score would mean for her?" She added more softly.

I shrugged once again. "A break. If no one thinks she's a threat, no one's gonna be gunning for her. Better a two than a ten. It might mean no sponsors, but it also means you have time to let the glory hounds take each other out and wear each other out in the process."

The three of them were silent as they process what I had said. That unnerved me more than their angry chatter, so I barked, "She's still tied up in there. If it were you caught in that trap, or your ally if you're stupid enough to make one, you'd be dead by now. Get to it."

I turned away from them, intending to leave them to figure out the knot on their own as it would be the best way for them to learn it, and learn it well. Instead, I found myself face-to-face with Tilla Bloom.

I swore fluently, and three heads whipped around to face me and our uninvited guest.

She smiled, a menacing expression that did not reach her cold eyes. Crossing her arms, she tapped one nail against her cheek, and I noticed I had been mistaken; I thought her nails were painted red, but instead they were encrusted with wicked-looking rubies.. "Oh, my. What is all this? A sleepover? A little bonding before the murdering begins? Are you deciding who's going to kill who and how? Can I join the fun? I've some splendid ideas on how to kill that District 2 girl, Pax- she was my old rival's daughter, can you believe that? Or maybe you're going to team up on those District 1 twins, Glimmer and Shimmer, whose sister is an escort in their district and a truly insufferable, simpering excuse for a woman? How sweet of you to think of targeting them for me, you're such lovely darlings."

"What do you want, Tilla?" Maysilee asked, her voice low but steady.

"What do I want, my dear May?" She asked, her voice the sickly-sweet of fabricated flower-scented perfume. "I want my tributes to think. I want two of them to go _back to their rooms_, so their imminent failure doesn't contaminate the tributes worth my time. I do _not_ want my tributes to get _soft_."

By this point Tilla had advanced on us, forcing me to back up until I was standing next to Maysilee. Thankfully, Reed had figured out the knot, and had his hand protectively on the now freed girl's shoulder.

"You can't hurt us," I said quietly, my voice hard. "It'd be a disaster if one of your tributes were to show up damaged beyond repair."

She beamed. "Oh, quite true, my clever one, but there's nothing in the rules against a few scars and bruises- makes you look like a fighter, and doesn't the crowd love a scrappy underdog?"

I had been watching her body. I'd been in my fair share of fights- something about my sunny disposition, Olivia always gave me hell for it afterward –so I was familiar with the subtle signals that gave away attacks. For that reason, when she lunged for Maysilee, I was prepared; I shoved the golden-haired girl aside at the same time I shouted at Reed to run with Lissa. I ended up taking the blow meant for Maysilee myself, resulting in four long scratches on my arm, which I had hastily thrown up to protect my face. The gemstones on her nails were real, and they were sharped to a point that would make most daggers green with envy.

"You're insane," I growled.

"Of course I am," she replied calmly, still grinning. "In this job? You're either mad or you're delusional. At least I know what's going on, and I plan on monopolizing on it. You're bleeding on the carpets."

As Tilla talked, Maysilee, with a stealth I didn't expect of her, had crept around behind our deranged mentor, carrying one end of the unnecessarily long curtain with her. We didn't need to talk; I knew exactly what she was planning to do.

I smirked back at Tilla, and flung my bleeding arm at her, staining her thread-of-gold embroidered business suit with drops of red. She only shook her head, as if I were a struggling student who had just given the wrong answer. "That was uncalled for," she remarked calmly. "Perhaps your face needs a matching scar or two?"

She made to lunge for me just as Maysilee threw the other end of the curtain to me. I ducked out of Tilla's range and came up on the other side of the curtain, making a loop around our mentor. I pulled it tight, yanking Tilla off her feet, and rapidly tied the same knot I had used to restrain Lissa earlier, binding her arms to her sides uselessly.

Tilla stared at us in wide-eyed fury. Then, even more disturbingly, she began to laugh.

"Well done, my dears, well done," she crooned. "Look how well you neutralized me, a bigger enemy with the edge of a weapon. If this were the arena, my death would be imminent, even if all you two dears did was walk away. Exposure is harsh, and, well, other tributes wouldn't be so compassionate, now, would they?" She laughed again, clearly pleased with herself. "Well done indeed, my little fighters."

I swore again, realizing that this was just one more game Tilla was playing. She wanted me to send Reed and Lissa away so they didn't get the fighting experience, and she wanted me and Maysilee to team up on her. We played right into her hand, letting her coach us using her twisted techniques.

In my rage at being played for the fool, I lunged for the mentor, not even thinking of what I was doing. Maysilee grabbed my arm before my fist could make contact.

"Stop it, Haymitch," she hissed. "Don't let yourself fall to her level. Come on. Let's leave this madwoman here. She can't do anything to us once we're handed over to the stylists in the morning- she'd never risk damaging whatever look they give us."

I wanted to punch her, too. The anger at being reaped that I had kept bottled up wanted to flow out, wanted an outlet. I was ready to attack anything. Instead, I forced my clenched fist to fall to my side, and broke out of Maysilee's grasp. Just like that, the fight went out of me; all I wanted to do was be far away from Tilla, far away from Maysilee and Reed and Lissa, far away from the train. I wanted to be back in District Twelve, teasing Olivia, helping my brother with arithmetic, looking for plants my mother could use for dyes for her cloth.

I definitely didn't want to be used as a pawn for a power-hungry madwoman, just like I didn't want to forge any semblance of friendship with the golden girl who helped me take her down.

"Fine. Let's go."

Tilla kept laughing. Even as we shut and locked the door, trapping her in the room until the morning when the servants would come looking for her, both of us knew she had won the night.


	5. Chapter 5

I apologize this 'finished' chapter is so terribly late. I've gotten hit by a large courseload and, more dramatically impacting the fic's progress, my computer crashed over the summer resulting in my losing _all _of my planning materials. (Yes, I did make the joke, 'NOW HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHO DIES WHEN?'). I'm working on recreating my outline, getting everything sorted out again. As a result, though, this chapter is _still _shorter than I'd like it to be, and I have to add in the parade and a bit of info on the other tributes along with what'll be covered in Chapter 6. I figure this is okay, though, as I'm saving the space Collins used to describe food so lovingly. XD Anyway, I hope this lives up to expectations, and I also hope to get back on a more regular schedule soon, once my exams and courses die down a bit. Thank you as always for the kind words of support and favorites. 3

Note: remember, this is just the finished chapter, but there is a _lot _of new content so it's probably just as good as a typical update. If you recognize the fist couple of paragraphs, though, don't be alarmed. XD

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"Can I braid your hair?"

While that wasn't the most alarming question I had been asked upon entering the Remake Room, I couldn't help but hear it in a little girl's voice. As a result, that particular question made me lose the carefully maintained façade of nonchalance I had adopted upon being handed over to the stylist, and I found myself laughing. It was all so absurd.

I stood upon a podium, surrounded by mirrors and wearing, well, nothing. I was pretty sure that wasn't a requirement but the conscious decision of my prep team, a trio of girls that I could only think were hand-selected by Tilla. They each had a gemstone theme to them. If they had ever introduced themselves to me I had forgotten almost immediately, and I instead thought of them as 'the diamond one', 'the emerald one', and 'the I-guess-it's-supposed-to-be-amethyst' one.

"Is that a yes?" The probably-amethyst-one asked, pale-purple-jewel encrusted fingers inching towards my hair. Her eyes matched the gems, as did her lips. Unnervingly, her eyes had no pupils, just pure pale purple.

I shuddered, then replaced my mask. "I'm just gonna do what you tell me to. I've got nothing to do with fashion."

And I didn't. While I knew that the prelude to the games could be just as vital as the games themselves, as all the tributes scrabbled to get sponsors, I also knew it was probably a vain hope for me or any of the District 12 tributes. We didn't have the best track record with stylists or sponsors, so I refused to get my hopes up. At this point, it looked as if the four of us were going to get a gem motif ourselves…

… or maybe we were going to end up naked and covered in coal dust, as the joke back home on the Seam always went. Every so often our tributes ended up wearing nothing but coal dust- it was the fall-back option for District 12, and every kid growing up teased the other that if they were reaped they'd better be comfortable in the nude. I didn't buy into it, as the last time it had happened had been when I was one and _very _poorly received due to the unfortunate nature of the male tribute (a rather chubby Market District boy) but then again, it didn't seem as if they were in any rush to give me clothing. The fact that one of them, the emerald one, was walking towards me with a jar of vaguely metallic black powder, did nothing to allay this fear.

"You've got to be kidding me," I mumbled under my breath as the emerald one began dusting my shoulders. "You have _seriously_got to be _kidding_me."

"Not at all, sweet," the emerald one replied, and with a start I realized that their voice was _deep_. Possibly too deep for a woman's. "Never hurts to fall back on a good thing, and you've got a _great_ body. Some rich Capitol woman is going to pay for all manner of gifts for you to thank you for the fantas-"

"Stop stop stop _stop,_"I said in a rush, eager to not hear what she- he? –had to say on that topic. A sudden realization dawned on me and I hissed in a rush, "Are you doing this to _Lissa_, too?" The thought was horrifying.

The third one finally reappeared, bearing a glittering piece of what I hoped and prayed was clothing. She smiled and shook her head, her tinsel-like hair lazily swishing about with the motion. "She's being dusted as well, yes, but the little one has a leotard on. Not that it's your business, you know. You're supposed to listen to your stylists, not interrogate them." She paused for a moment, surveying the progress being made on me, then sighed. "Ralla, would you stop braiding his hair? You know Flore's plan, and it most certainly does not involve a bejeweled braid. Or have you forgotten we're on a timeline?"

The amethyst one frowned, "Oh, Camilla, you're so dull. Always sticking to plans!"

"Yes, because the plan is _good_. We want him to be impressive, not… whatever that is," Camilla insisted, waving a hand at my hair. "Step aside and let me do that."

As Camilla rapidly undid the careful braid Ralla had been working on, the third one began to dust my chest. "You're probably wondering where Flore, your actual stylist is, no?" Camilla asked conversationally, producing a small pair of shears. "Well, due to the overwhelming amount of tributes this year," she continued, as if I had indicated any interest, "one stylist has to cope with two tributes each. Your partner, the pretty golden one, requires much more attention than you, so Flore is there, and you get us."

I snorted, earning me a quick glare from the duster, as my movement had caused the brush to veer off course and smear black metallic dust on my elbow.

After a couple quick, decisive snips, Camilla stepped back, admiring her work. My long hair was now roughly cropped around my chin. It was an intentionally messy job. I glanced at my sheared hair impassively; I wasn't vain, and my long hair was really a creation of laziness about getting it cut. For an absurd moment I wondered what Olivia would think of it.

Then I remembered I'd likely never get to find out.

The emerald one finally finished liberally dusting me. He stepped back to join Camilla. Once Ralla realized she was the only one hovering around me, and not even doing anything at that, she hurriedly joined her companions. I got the feeling Ralla was new at this, trying desperately to impress everyone and consequently coming off completely clueless. Just my luck.

"What do you think, girls?" The emerald one asked, eying me appraisingly.

The question was clearly intended for Camilla, but that did stop Ralla from sulky pouting, "I _liked_ his long hair."

Camilla _tut_-ted in an almost motherly fashion, disturbing from someone who looked as manufactured as she did. "Oh, my dear. That long hair might've killed him, sweet. Besides, this short look accentuates his ruggedness. Very survivor, the crowds will adore it. They like something raw every now and then, you see."

I rolled my eyes and scowled. "How about some pants, or is raw a synonym for nude here?"

"Alas, no," Camilla replied, a smirk on her face. "But clothing is Flore's domain. Until she gets here, well. We get to bask in your _raw_ presence."

"Do I get a chair, or should I hold still so you can practice your still lifes?"

"What's he saying? I don't get it," Ralla asked, wrinkling her nose and squinting her eerie pupils eyes at me as if I smelled like a rotten cabbage.

Camilla just laughed. "Don't worry about it, it's not your job to worry. Why don't you run along and fetch some hair gel for me, there's a dear, and why don't you go get me some accessory options?" She asked, referring to Ralla and the emerald one in turn. They both immediately did as they were told. I figured in my actual stylist's stead, Camilla was in charge, and I truly did not know how I felt about that.

As soon as they were gone, the diamond one rolled her eyes, grabbed a damp towel and began viciously scrubbing the coal dust off of me. "That fool has no idea what _highlighting _means. We don't want it to look like you're burnt! And he even covered up those beautiful scratches on your arm that dear Tilla gave you, I wager. I truly don't understand how either of them got hired, they're simply useless."

Instinctively I yanked my arm away from her and took a step back. I had been content to coast on autopilot through this charade of make-up and glitz, but even though I had assumed Tilla had a hand in everything hearing Camilla use the phrase 'dear Tilla' aroused every instinct of distrust in me. It was another test, and I refused to lose this one.

For her part, Camilla just smiled, and held the towel out to me. "You don't trust me. That's fine. You don't really have a choice, sweet. And Tilla dear knows that. Wipe the rest of that muck off yourself. I was content to let the others follow some silly plan to make them think they were of use, but now that I've got them off on fools errands the real work can begin."

Despite my immediate urge to do the opposite of whatever she told me to do, the black powder was beginning to itch and run into my eyes as it collected in my sweat. It was hot underneath the spotlights being shone on me, after all. I rubbed the gunk off my face then began to work on my arms, while regarding her with disdain. "So you're not content to just mess around with the tributes? You're turning on your own allies?"

"Well, of course. That's not just a tactic for the Games, my pet." Her smile was icy sharp, matching the diamond of her nails. Just like Tilla's, they were encrusted with actual diamonds. "The Capitol may appear glitzy, and truly it is a playland for the blind, but, well… if you can see past the glamour, you can play the game so much better. And you are going to help us do just that." Seeing the look on my face, she laughed. "Oh, don't say anything naively heroic, like, 'I'd rather die', because I assure you, dear, that _is _the only alternative."

The words caught in my throat. Talking to her was like playing a game where the other player had two moves to your one and already knew what you were going to use your turn to do, anyway. While Tilla was sickly sweet like a cloying rose, preferring to distract you with the bud so you didn't see the thorns, I could tell Camilla preferred to adopt the blunt, straightforward sheen of her favored diamond. The sparkle only came out when she needed to be dazzling; until then, she preferred to be useful and hard.

"What's the relationship?" I asked instead, working a particularly dense bit of powder around my navel.

"Nothing of your concern. You shall learn rapidly, the less you give of yourself to others, the less they have to hurt you with. Therefore, I shall tell you as little as I need, and only what suits me. Are you taking notes? This is very helpful information."

I threw the soiled towel at her face. She caught it with one sharp motion. For a moment I wondered what Camilla would to do me in retaliation, and prepared for an assault of some sort. The woman was just so like Tilla I couldn't help but expect some sort of violence, but she just smiled infuriatingly at me, as if she were pleased at my aggression. It was exactly what she wanted, after all; I had been lured into a false sense of security by these people, thinking they were safe simply because it was their job to beautify me for public appeal. I had never thought that a true threat would be lying in wait among them, but here she was, sharp edges and ears waiting to inform Tilla or carry out her business.

Nothing was safe, whether I was outside or inside the Arena.

Just that moment the door opened and a young girl bustled in, burdened with two large bags and looking barely older than I was. "Apologies I'm so late," the girl chirped in an odd, high-pitched voice. "Maysilee and I got to talking, and it was just so _interesting _I couldn't tear myself away even though she's been perfectly dressed for an hour now, and I fear we'll run short on time for you, but it all should be well before the parade of trib-"

"Flore," Camilla drawled, resting her chin on one fist. "You're babbling."

"Oh. Of course."

My stylist. She was small in stature, barely five feet if that. Her skin was dyed the rich brown of a tree trunk, with darker whorls dyed into it to emulate wood grain. Her hair stuck out from her head at angles and was a leafy green, with a wreath of flowers nestled into it. It looked as if her outfit was woven from plants, and I feared I was about to be coated in a cape made of rose petals and sent on my merry way. It seemed like something Tilla would arrange.

Instead, the small woman, still hauling her bags, hopped up next to me and looked me up and down quickly, before rummaging through her bags and producing a few choice garments. "Well then! You're Haymitch! I'm Flore!"

I just nodded, amazed that this creature was smiling so brightly, as if we were fast friends meeting at a reunion.

She continued on unabashed, talking rapidly. "Well, you see, District 12 is all about mining, as I'm sure you know- seeing as, well, you're _from _there and all. So we thought- me and the stylist for your other two, the cute little one and the lanky one –that each of you should, perhaps, embody something different of what goes into all that mining. It's so dull if you're all the same, and you want to stand out, now, don't you? So you've each got your theme, and yours, my dear, is the product of mining!"

I glanced at the coal dust-coated rag I had thrown at Tilla, wondering if I had scrubbed all that off in vain. Noticing my look, Flore giggled.

"Oh, not _just _coal. Metals come from mining, too, don't they?" She seemed truly uncertain of herself here, but she pressed on, anyway. "We're going to dust parts of you with that, but the real flash is going to come from this."

She held up a cape, shimmering softly, made of a metallic fabric that I was certain no one back home could replicate on their looms. Copper, silver and gold sworls danced on the fabric. To my infinite relief I noticed a pair of pants made of a solid black as well, accentuated by a belt of what looked like raw ore disks of each of the three materials.

"We know that you mine coal for our power," Flore continued on as she swooped behind me to fasten the cape about my shoulders, "but it's just so dull, and the citizens of the Capitol shall hardly mind the inaccuracy- so long as we don't cover you with gems, anyway. District 1 might be a little annoyed, but since it's only one of the four I think they'll overlook us bending the rules a bit. Besides, you have a splendid facial structure for this sort of thing- you look like a striking prince from a storybook, the children will _love _it. Plus I do so adore making unique fabrics… I just get carried away."

I said nothing. The cape was remarkable, and infinitely better than being naked, but I couldn't get excited over it. Not with Camilla smirking in the background, clearly Tilla's eyes in the Remake Room. She permitted me to put on the pants, belt, and waiting shoes (plain work boots, also black- mercifully normal), then glanced at a nearby clock and gasp. "Oh my. We have to leave. We have to get down to the bottom level, now!" Suddenly realizing only one of my prep team was there, she turned quickly to Camilla, a frown on her face. "Camilla, wherever are Ralla and Cameo?"

Rising from her chair in a fluid motion, Camilla shrugged. "I believe they went to fetch me some supplies, but it seems they got themselves lost. I expect this of Ralla, but I thought Cameo knew his way about here."

"Curious…" Flore muttered, but the time was more pressing than her concern. "Well, they'll know where to find us. Come, come, we have to hurry, we can touch up things downstairs!"

A flurry of rushed activity later and I was deposited next to an oversized chariot, with nothing left to do but wait until the procession began. As we rushed down, Flore and Camilla had dabbed at me with the coal dust powder, coating parts of my face and hands in it, as well as darkening my eyelids and lining them. I felt ridiculous, but hey. At least I had pants.

Reed and Lissa were already there. Reed had been selected to portray the miner, I could tell right away; he wore an updated version of our work uniform and had a light strapped to his head. It was nothing fancy, but he was clearly the most comfortable of all of us, and that natural ease might help him more than all the primping and fancy clothing in the world. Little Lissa, like me, was a 'product' of mining, only she was simply coal. She wore a black leotard and was liberally sprinkled with coal dust on her face, limbs and hair. It gave her a sickly, impoverished look, but she was clearly determined not to show that it bothered her.

Finally, Maysilee appeared, flanked by her own prep team. It looked as if she were literally flying, due to pale gold wings that had been carefully attached to the dress that she wore. It looked to be made of thousands of small feathers. Her shoes were also feathered, and she wore a headpiece of flowers that clung to the top of her golden hair like a veil.

The effect was stunning.

"What are you supposed to be?" I hissed as the two stylists carefully arranged us (Maysilee and I in front, Reed behind holding Lissa as if she was the coal he had just plucked from the earth).

I could see a faint blush under the careful, soft make-up they had coated her in. "A canary. I'm not sure what it has to do with mining, to be true. But it's better than some alternatives."

I was deeply grateful for the dimness of the area. It hid the furious look that passed over my face. Of course she was a canary. I was amazed the rest of them weren't decked out in feathers as well. Tilla's mark was clear all over this costume choice, and I was the intended recipient of the message.

The smaller canary was impacted more strongly by smaller amounts of gases that could collect beneath the earth, so they alerted miners to the presence of such deadly vapors. A canary, the miner's warning system, intended to reveal danger to the miners… by dying.

Tilla's message was loud and clear. I was the superior product of mining, the desireable metals. The rest of my district was just the team that would produce me, the ideal specimen of District 12. The rest of them were expendable; I was what was really wanted.

Despite the fact that I knew it would have to end with them dying for me to live, the actual thought of it being used as ammunition to fuel my success made every part of me seek to reject it. I wanted to protect Lissa, teach Reed, and even cooperate with Maysilee, if it meant I wouldn't have to watch them die one by one, warning me of the danger we were all in.

She had no idea that, with that gesture, Tilla had started me thinking about ways for _all _of us to escape the Games.


End file.
